


though the world may change

by frostoria



Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Friends With Benefits, I'm sorry for all the angst but Masato brings out all the angst headcanons, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostoria/pseuds/frostoria
Summary: Every Sunday, Masato comes by the jazz club in his suit, sits in a dark corner, and focuses his attention on the blond saxophone player on stage. Afterwards, in the hotel room, they shed their clothes, leave things unsaid, and what’s left is the countdown to the next seven days.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I started writing this when the first season came out, a whooping 5 years ago. Yay procrastination! The story diverges from the end of their first year, where neither of them managed to graduate the academy, either because Haruka never existed or chose someone else as her grad partner. Thus their characterization is stuck in their S1 angst antagonism stage.

He parked several blocks away, under the neon lights, the freezing rain.

There were certain things Masato Hijirikawa didn’t understand, and he didn’t try to make sense of them as he strode towards the club. The wind buffeted his usually immaculate hair, and the raindrops clung onto his grey suit. It was Sunday, and the people hurrying past paid no attention to him, except a spare glance as if to wonder why the young businessman was letting rain soak his expensive looking suit.

He reached the entrance, the bright lights washing him in purple and white. The inside was dim and filled with conversation, constantly overlapping, blending, contradicting. A seductive laugh pierced the air, and Masato imagined the faceless women in _his_ bed, purring _his_ name, clothes on the floor and limbs entangled – _Stop it, it’s none of your business_. He made his way to his usual spot, knowing the probing lights won’t find their way to the table in the corner. The illuminated spot onstage was still empty – he checked his watch, won’t be long now.

“Yes, I’ll have a gin and tonic, thank you.” The waiter set down the cool drink and Masato watched the condensation on the glass turn into dew drops, catching them with his finger before they fall to the bottom. He took the first sip, savouring the taste: sharp, bitter, and a hint of citrus from the lime wedge. He wondered what would happen if he bite into it, if it would be as sour as it seems. Funny how life worked out, isn’t it? What happened to their idol dream, him in his suit and Ren – he tested the sound of his name, strange on his tongue after years of _Jinguji_ – on the stage, living the life he thought he wanted?

He sensed the crowd stirring and thought, you’re late, as the club muted its voice and people turned their head towards the stage where Ren stood, orange hair shining under the spotlight. It reminded him of autumn leaves, how they light branches on fire and dance in the wind. Chaos and freedom, that was what Ren represented.

As the music started, Masato closed his eyes and remembered the times at school when he looked out the window at the invisible figure on the rooftop, catching the lone notes flowing through the air with a strange sense of melancholy. When he blinked out of his reverie, Ren caught his eyes and gave a barely perceptible smirk. Masato held Ren’s look defiantly, though it made him self-conscious somehow, like he wanted to smile but couldn't because that would be too obvious wouldn't it?

The stage lights glinted off the saxophone as Ren moved to the music, looking without a care in the world. Ren had a way of looking that made you feel like he only had eyes for you, so Masato tried not to get swept up in it. Still, it was mesmerizing, how everything around him seemed to shine. There was a strange lightness in his heart as the notes flowed through him, and Masato suddenly realized he was leaning forward on the table, caught up in the melody. He let himself stay there for a while. The melody sounded familiar somehow, like layers of an old blanket, nostalgic in its warmth; he thought it might be the song that Ren used to hum under his breath, in those moments that Masato had pretended to not pay attention.

There was no way to tell in the windowless club, but Masato was certain the sun has already sunk down the horizon when Ren played his last note. Patrons clapped generously and faded back into conversation. Masato didn’t miss the look Ren gave him, nor the crowd of women – in their twenties, lovely and seductive – who swarmed around him, as he headed out the door. Wondering will only drive him mad, so he didn’t.

The rain was coming down harder on Masato’s way back to the car, pelting his hair, coating it with coldness that dripped down his scalp. A raindrop fell into his eye, rolling down his cheek when he blinked, and he wanted to laugh, laugh at the absurdity of it all.

The inside of his car is damp, but warm enough. If he had a watch, he would watch the minutes tick past, but as it was, he sat there silently. Spare time was dangerous, because it allowed him to think, so he was relieved when Ren finally climbed in the passenger seat, shaking rain off his hair, asking, “How’d you like my performance?”

“The rhythm in the second song was off.” As if by reflex. It wasn't quite a lie, but he flinched a bit at the harshness of his words. 

But Ren only laughed. “Stingy with compliments as always, Hijirikawa. The ladies seem to like it well enough.”

“So I see. You’re as popular as ever, Jinguji.” The words left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“I’m sure women must be falling all over themselves to impress the heir to the Hijirikawa Financial Group.” Ren flashed his smile, the one that made women swoon, and Masato wondered if Ren thought it was a compliment. Strange, wasn’t competition always their thing? Now it was like Ren simply didn’t care.

So this, Masato thought with a rueful smile, was what not-quite-friends ( _who sleep with each other_ , whispered the voice at the back of his mind) talk about, and – wonder, wonder when they’ll find someone better.

He started the engine and eased the car onto the road, hands settling on the steering wheel and eyes to the front. It was such a familiar drive that he really had no excuse for the amount of attention he was paying to the road, but he feared what words might come out of his mouth if he let his guard down just for a moment. The quiet was not unbearable, though perhaps unwelcome all the same. Rain splattered the windshield and was swept away, a never-ending back and forth.

On the upsweep of the wipers, Ren spoke. “Did you recognize the song?”

Ah. Masato allowed himself one smile. “I did. It’s…good, more polished than before. The new layer of melody really completes the song.”

“Yeah, it took a while to figure out what I wanted.” A pause, and Masato tried to decipher that _something_ in Ren’s voice. “I miss those days too, you know. At the Academy.” And the trace of regret lit something in Masato.

“ _You_ don’t get to say that. You always took everything for granted, and you still got what you wanted in the end.” _And I’m left with nothing_. He hated that his voice was trembling. He was supposed to bottle up his emotions, but Ren had always been the exception and he hated it.

Ren was silent. Instead of looking at his reaction, Masato apologized to his steering wheel instead. “I apologize, that was out of line.” Still, Ren was silent. The raindrops raced each other on the windshield and Masato tried not to wonder if he destroyed the last shred of connection.

“No, you’re right.” Masato had the feeling that Ren was pretending to look out the window, just like how Masato was pretending to look at the road in front. “Hijirikawa, why are you doing this?”

“This?” Good, this was a question Masato had rehearsed for. “Because I can’t have my… preferences known when I’m expected to produce heirs. Rumours would also no doubt be harmful to my family’s reputation.”

“Then why me?” Masato chanced a glance at Ren’s face. Despite the easy smile, there was an undercurrent of something important, something dangerous.

But before he could reply with something harmless, Ren continued. “Or is this your idea of rebellion by choosing the disgraced son of your family’s rival?”

Something squeezed in Masato’s chest. The realization that Ren thought so little of him burned like a hot coal, and maybe he deserved it. He wanted to give in then, to abandon this stupid facade. Wanted to tell Ren the things he didn’t even dare admit to himself, pour out so much that his throat gives out and his hands shake and the floodgate of emotions bleeds him dry. But that would never happen. It was just a stupid question asked out of spite.

So he ignored it instead. “Don’t overthink this, Jinguji. We’re just…” He found he suddenly didn’t know what to say, and there was a dense silence in the car.

“Fucking?” He took his eyes off the road, just a second, not quite in the direction of the man in the passenger seat. A half smile played on Ren’s lips, but his blue eyes were hard. Masato clenched the steering wheel tighter, and felt Ren’s gaze on his hands. “Kinda hard to forget something we’ve been doing every week for the past three months.”

“Not the word I would’ve chosen, but yes.” He wanted to say more, but there was nothing more to say. It was his idea that they meet like this, his insistence that there was nothing more, and his regret that he couldn’t be honest about anything.

“Forget about it.”

It was quiet again, somehow more unbearable than before. Ren was looking out the side window, seemingly absorbed in the scenery. Masato kept waiting for a terse request from Ren to drop him off at the side of the road, but they made it to the underground parking lot without exchanging another word.

It was routine by now. He went first, paying for the room and heading up, and Ren would follow in five minutes. It was always the same room, the positions of everything familiar enough that they can find their way around in the darkness punctuated with city lights filtering through the curtains. It was almost like their own little world, away from the demands of real life.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the knocking on the door. He opened it to allow Ren in, letting the flood of light from the hallway blind him before Ren tugged him in for a strong kiss. The door slipped shut, leaving the room in darkness, and Ren’s lips were so soft that Masato allowed himself to pretend that he was making love to a woman his father had deemed appropriate to marry, that his life wasn’t planned out for him as the future CEO of his family’s company. The kiss wasn’t part of their agreement, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

Hands pushed him against the wall, tugging urgently at his tie, and he felt his arousal grow as Ren’s leg teased against the front of his trousers. This should be routine by now, but this time every movement was just a bit rougher, more urgent. He grinded back against Ren, stifling his moan against their lips and clutching the shoulders of Ren’s shirt, half wanting to push him away. His hands inched towards Ren’s face as if to caress it, and he jerked them back, moving to unbutton Ren’s shirt as if that was what he meant to do all along. His face was burning hot for reasons not entirely related to his growing erection, and he tried in vain to calm down the pounding of his heart before Ren could feel it through his chest.

“Bed, now,” Ren broke the kiss with an urgent whisper that sent shivers down Masato’s body. He allowed himself to be led along, their hands and lips against each other until they both tumbled onto the bed like drunken schoolboys, dizzy with freedom. Ties already loose, they discarded layer by layer until only a thin layer of fabric remained between their nakedness.

Masato paused, suddenly struck. Painted by city lights from the window, Ren looked so beautiful with the lock of hair lazily draped in front of his eyes, his lean body pulsing with desire. Masato’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, so he averted his gaze, instead searching in his pockets for the lube he kept for these days.

The bed shifted, and he felt a hand grab his wrist, fingers digging into his skin. Ren was kneeling on the edge of bed, and he pulled on Masato’s wrist until their faces were inches apart. Eyes locked as if in a trance, he couldn’t look away as Ren put two of his fingers in his mouth, shivering as he felt them slide in and out between Ren’s warm lips, an obscene imitation of what would come. Unsatisfied, Ren continued the trail of kisses down Masato’s body, smirking up at him as he involuntarily hissed at the graze against his cock.

Suddenly overcome with lust, Masato pushed Ren back down on the bed, straddling his legs and capturing his wrists in a crude imitation of restraints. With his free hand, he traced his fingers down all the sensitive spots he knew, behind the ears, side of the neck, collarbone, lower and lower. The smirk on Ren’s face was gone, replaced by barely constrained lust, ragged breath and hands clenching. Deciding he had suffered enough, Masato pulled down Ren’s boxers and swallowed his length in one swift motion, enjoying Ren’s sharp intake of breath. Up and down, he teased over the sensitive spot with his tongue, ignoring Ren clutching at his hair, hips bucking as if demanding he go deeper. He could taste the precum on the tip of his tongue, the hint of bitterness.

Satisfied that Ren was hard enough, Masato motioned to get off Ren and into their usual position when Ren clutched his hand and held him there. “What-“

“Let’s do it this way today.” And before he knew what happened, Masato was flipped onto his back, Ren leaning over him as if cornering his prey. Ren’s erection was rubbing against his own and god knows why he was flushing all over even though they’ve done this a dozen times, but Ren’s face was much too close. For some reason, his limbs suddenly lost all strength. Splayed out on the bed, he could only nod with mute surprise, even though he knew that wasn’t a question.

Ren reached to grab the lube that lay forgotten on the chair. Masato bit his lips when Ren eased his boxers off, and again when Ren’s slick fingers entered him, unable to contain his moan as they moved in him, easing him open. Thoughts evaporated when Ren's fingers retracted, and he was ashamed of the way his hips jerked, seeking the fullness. His legs parted at Ren's touch, and he watched, short of breath, as Ren pushed inside him, agonizingly slow. He couldn’t help looking at Ren’s face, uncharacteristic in its intensity. Before he could release the breath he had been holding, Ren pulled out and thrusted in again, harder, and Masato was _gone_. 

With each thrust, he bit his arm so he wouldn't cry out, stifling his moans against his skin. There was no thinking, just primal instinct, and his hips were up against Ren’s, pushing him deeper and deeper. Ren’s breath brought shivers with every exhale, and Masato almost trembled with the urge to run his hands through Ren’s hair, wild and free. There was so much he wanted, to scratch down Ren’s back, bring his head down until he could feel the warm breath against his own lips. Overwhelmed, Masato could only close his eyes so he wouldn’t see the slight flush on Ren’s cheeks, those eyes roving over his body as if trying to memorize every inch of him.

In the darkness of his mind, he could feel. Sensations blended into each other, the heat inside him, sweat, his body clenching, Ren’s hand stroking his cock in rhythm, the erratic pounding inside his chest. Ren hit that spot inside him and he jerked, a strangled moan escaping his mouth, and again as he angled his hips to chase that high. Ren’s grip on his waist tightened as he thrusted forward again and again.

“Look at me.”

His eyes snapped open against his will. He had never heard this kind of voice from Ren before, not a flirty tease or confident command, but almost a possessive demand. Masato could only give in and look, drinking in the curve of Ren’s neck, lips swollen from their kisses. And even in the dimness he could’ve swore he was drowning in those blue eyes. He tried to cover his eyes, pretending that hiding his face would make everything go away, but as if sensing what he was about to do, Ren reached out and pinned his hands to the bed. Warmth radiated from their entwined fingers, and Ren’s hands were sweaty too. Masato could feel the heat building, his erection twitching in anticipation. He desperately wanted to touch himself but he couldn’t, could only grind his hips closer and closer. Ren’s eyes were burning holes in him and he hit that spot again and-

Shamefully undone, Masato came, with a shudder and a muffled groan.

His cum splattered onto his stomach, slowly dripping down to the sheets, and his mind was white hot with ecstasy. Almost painfully sensitive, he was vaguely aware of Ren clutching his hands, bucking once, twice, before he felt a burst of heat inside his body and Ren stuttering out _“fuck.”_

As they lied panting against each other, Masato became painfully aware that Ren was still holding on to his hands. Ren lifted his head, with a strange look on his face, and Masato felt a sudden twinge in his chest. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, he couldn’t, _please_ – almost like a prayer. But it was no use.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ren let go. “Well, let’s get cleaned up shall we?” while reaching for the tissue box. Pulling out – Masato felt his body protesting the loss – Ren wiped himself off before reaching towards Masato, but Masato brushed him off, taking the tissues to wipe himself off. Just like that, Ren was back to his usual flirty self, with “Your face is sexy when you come,” and Masato’s face burned with frustration or embarrassment or something else he couldn’t identify.

“I’ll take the shower first.” He needed a moment to himself, pull himself together. Ren hummed in agreement and settled back down on the bed, phone already in his hands.

With shaky steps, Masato made it to the bathroom, into the lights that were suddenly too bright. Under the steady stream of the shower, he examined his hands, the phantom warmth of Ren’s palms weighing on his mind. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? There was something in Ren’s eyes that he couldn’t decipher; was he just trying to assert control? Or…

The water pounded on his back, too warm against the heat of his skin. Switching off the shower, he vigorously shook droplets off his hair, wishing he could shake his thoughts into submission the same way. The mirrors were fogged up when he stepped out, towelling himself dry. He stood naked in front of the glass, wiping away the condensation, trying to see if he let anything slip on his face, any reason why Ren had _looked_ so intently. His features, slightly blurry, came into view, followed by the rest of his body.

But there was nothing different about him. And that was the point, wasn’t it?

He let his arms drop away from his face, half in relief. This selfish indulgence had no place in the real world. It was the way it always will be, the two of them, never on the same page.

 _Are you happy like this?_ Ren had once asked. He couldn’t answer. It was something Masato didn’t pay much heed to – there was no room for something as frivolous as happiness in duty.

But sometimes he imagined what price he would pay to be free of his obligations, and his dreams were filled with Ren’s face.

Damn it! He had to go. His hair was not quite dry when he stepped back into the darkness, but he felt around for his clothes, conscious of Ren’s eyes on him. Without turning around, he said, “The shower is all yours, Jinguji,” but he couldn’t hear any movement from the bed.

“So eager to escape?” Isn’t it funny how he could hear the smirk in Ren’s voice.

“Prior engagement, that’s all.” The lie didn’t roll as easily off his tongue as before. He dressed quickly beside the bed, about to say goodbye, when the words stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You’re in love with me.”

It wasn’t said with any force, but Masato felt the jolt all the same. He paused at the foot of the bed, a sudden pounding in his chest, before he turned around. Ren sat on the bed, his lightly tanned body naked among the bedsheets stained with – Masato doesn’t let himself complete that thought – and he looked at Masato, not a trace of mocking in his eyes, just an unwavering gaze. _Why? Why is he doing this?_

It was just like the day back when they were sixteen, rooftop and the punch, the first time Masato had lost control of his emotions. Ren had clutched his jaw with an inscrutable look, and Masato let anger take over his words. But also – he didn’t recognize the emotion until much later – he was afraid, terrified at the thought of losing Ren again. Selfishly, he never wanted things to change, but the world moved on without them anyway. And it would be so easy if he could solve his problems by lashing out.

But they were no longer children.

This time he carefully composed his face into what he hoped was a blank mask, though he thought Ren probably saw those emotions flicker across his face. Still he had to pretend. “Good-bye, Jinguji,” he said, when he knew he really meant _yes_. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Only when he was safely outside the room did he let himself slump against the wall. As if on autopilot, hands almost steady, he dug his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed the number he knew by heart, waiting for the silence at the other end. “I…” he faltered, just for a second. “Same time next week,” he said. It wasn’t a question. They never ask questions.

He pressed harder against the wall, as if trying to hear the voice on the other side of the divide, the same voice that was coming through his cellphone: “I’ll be waiting.”

He was always the follower, from that first childish invitation, to the day he followed the rumors to the shock of orange hair in that dim club. Somewhere along the way, Ren’s “You look like you could use a fuck,” and _is that an offer?_ carelessly tumbling out of his mouth. (And how could he have been so _stupid_ , except Ren’s eyes widened before a grin settled over his face, and he knew he was helpless.) And maybe Masato always knew he would melt like putty in Ren’s hands.

So this would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry it's so angsty, Masato just seems like a very angsty character to me. In the name of research, I've rewatched the punch scene like 5 times, and got caught up on the new seasons, and basically I fell head first back into UtaPri hell. I just want to clutch my face any time Ren and Masato are in the same frame together, help.
> 
> First fic I've finished, so concrit welcome! But please be gentle.


End file.
